If you were brave
by vonPeeps
Summary: Mary and Molly are having a girls night in while the boys are out - wine and chatting turns into a heart to heart. Can Mary get Molly to admit to her feelings? And will she ever be feeling brave enough to tell Sherlock? Sherlolly, one-shot for now...
1. If you were brave

Authors note: I got an email this morning to tell me its my one year Tumblr anniversary (I'm VonPeeps over there too). I may be only getting to grips with it now, and I think I have a grand total of five followers, but it felt like a little milestone. So I wrote myself this fluffy little drabble :)

Hope you all enjoy. It's a one-shot at the moment, although I do have a follow up in mind if people are interested? Any and all feedback would be appreciated, as always...

* * *

"Are you kidding me, just go for it!"

"I dunno, Molls, I don't think I'm brave enough."

"Brave enough? You kidding me? Mary Watson, former assassin, giver of pen-drives, creator and protector of adorable tiny humans – not brave enough? In what universe?"

"Those things don't count, not really. They're just dealing with the next thing, and then the next. But teaching, well, that's a big leap from being just a nurse at a local GP."

"Firstly, there's no '_just a nurse_' about it, I wouldn't have recommended you if I didn't think you'd be good. Bart's has a reputation to uphold, y'know!" Tipping her friend a cheeky wink, she continued, "And that right there is like 90% of what being brave is – taking the next steps, doing what needs to be done, no matter how terrified you are. Just getting up and putting one foot in front of the other 'til you're out the other side."

Taking a sip from the glass of red that had been balanced precariously by her feet, Mary contemplated the slight woman nestled at the other end of the sofa. Her curiosity piqued from their first meeting at Baker Street two years earlier, Mary had been dancing around a topic ever since, coaxing out information piece by piece. Maybe now it was time for the sledgehammer approach?

"And that's what you think?"

"Yup."

"Hmmm. Well what about Sherlock then?"

"Well, I guess he is brave? I mean, he certainly gets things done, but who knows if he is ever actually afraid, or if it's all just a combination of chaos, impulsive decisions and reckless leaps into the unknown? I mean, Magnusson aside…"

Smirking at the description of her absent friend, Mary shook her head, "No, I mean you and Sherlock…"

"I don't… There's nothing to… We're friends?"

"Don't give me that, '_friends_'. I've heard the way he speaks to you, seen the two of you together. Spill it!"

"There's nothing to spill, really. He just knows he's got to keep me sweet if he wants access to my body parts – Jesus, I mean the lab's parts. Specimens. Cadavers. Not my… Stop looking at me like that!"

At Mary's raucous laugh, Molly took a bolstering gulp at her own glass, trying to piece together an argument that would satisfy her tenacious friend.

"Look, I've seen his type, I've even autopsied a woman he knew intimately enough to try and identify from her naked body alone, even if he was slightly off on that one. And, well, gorgeous. Irene Adler, Janine, it's a pattern, right, he can hook a glamorous brunette with a killer body, and I'm well, me." At her vague gesturing, Mary quirked an eyebrow, patiently inviting a response.

"Average. Average height, average body, mousy brown hair and '_too thin_' lips. Add in the comfortable morgue clothes and what have you got? Then there's the vague whiff of formaldehyde that follows me – known to make men hungry, but drive them wild with lust? Not likely. So-"

"Molls, love." Grabbing her hand, Mary pulled her round, anxiously seeking out her friend's eyes, "You aren't average, you're amazing. I've never known anyone as loyal as you. You're so sunny, even on the bleakest of days. You've got more emotional intelligence than anyone I've ever met, and your actual intelligence is off the charts too. You're a published academic for God's sake. Don't ever think–"

"This isn't some crisis of confidence, I know I'm pretty damn awesome. And actually, don't let me forget to tell you about my conference in Vienna next month. But what I'm trying to say is, we all have a type, right? You like fit action guys with a secret side of sweet, right?"

"Right."

"Well, he likes super confident women who can bring a guy to their knees in five words or less." Raising her hand to hold off Mary's next comment, she pushed on, "and that isn't me. The best I can hope for is '_cute_', '_sweet_', your basic girl next door."

"O- kay… But your type is…"

"Insanely intelligent lanky guys with appalling social skills, obviously." Laughter bubbled in her throat, "I mean, you met Tom. If they're not prepared to talk about meat daggers at a wedding, I'm just not interested."

"Well, if you're looking for social awkwardness, Sherlock's your guy, surely?"

"Honestly? I was sunk the minute he strode into my lab, flinging ridiculous demands about and ruffling his hair at me."

"So tell him!"

"Ha! Tell him what? He's deduced me so many times there's nothing left going on in my head that he doesn't already know from the smudge on my hand, or my shaky eyeliner, or the way I've tied my hair bobble."

"Tell him why you! He sees, he observes, but I don't think he gets it, not with you. He never _knows_."

"Oh sure, that'll go great. Hey Sherlock, nice corpse, thanks for dropping in. By the way, I've had a crush on you for the past six years. If you fancy turning me down for coffee again some time soon, I'm free Tuesday?"

"No, Captain Sarcasm, how you really feel." Mary paused, her head cocked to one side and her eyes sharpening speculatively. "What would you tell him, if you felt like being brave?"

"I guess… I mean, I'd try to say… that despite what everyone says when they think I can't hear, putting all those 'poor Molly' glances back where they belong… I don't have a crush on him. That's a tiny word for such huge, complex, confusing feelings. And it's not love, not properly. That's a two way street and there's precious little heading my way. So I guess what I would say is… I'm a good bet. Yeah, I'm a worthwhile risk, y'know? I've got my flaws, but I've also got strengths. And sentiment is a strength, to me, at least. So, if he wants to, if he wants me, he should take the risk, because we could be something interesting."

"Molly." Her name, exhaled with an almost reverent sigh, froze her to the spot. Eyes wide, she slowly looked over her shoulder, past Mary's smug grin, to the figure in the doorway, one hand raised to loosen the indigo knot at his neck, the other still clutching the door handle.

* * *

Thanks lovelies, hope you enjoy!

Oh and if anyone's interested, the formaldehyde thing is true. I learned precisely three things from my anatomy practicals at uni:

a. standing cadaver torsos up so they are looking at students is the stuff of nightmares

b. do NOT go out drinking the night before if you want to keep your dignity

c. the smell of formaldehyde makes you bonkers hungry (but turn down the free purple smoothies in the student union, they look too much like brain goop!)


	2. The truth you're afraid to tell

"Oh, hey Molly. Mary, you're gonna love this one. So when we got to the scene…" Elbowing his way past his former flat-mate, still caught up in the adrenaline and ready to pour out his new adventure, John rattled on, oblivious to the startled silence in the room. At the third insistent tug at his arm, he looked down expectantly at his surprisingly distracted wife.

"John, love?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up." Pulling him down to perch next to her on the arm of her sofa, Mary settled her body back against her husband, eyes fixed avidly on the pair across the room, still mute. One in shock, the other horrified beyond all belief. As the seconds stretched on, Mary 'In for a penny, in for a pound' Watson decided that another little nudge was needed.

"Well, Sherlock?" At his blank look towards her, she shook her head in silent amusement, "Any opinions? Hypothetically speaking of course, what would you say, if Molly was feeling brave tonight?"

"I'd say… well… interesting. Right. I'd say… that's nice?" Shooting a pained look across at the petite woman, still frozen in place after several long minutes, he whirled and almost fled his way out of the flat. In the ringing silence left by the slamming of the front door, John looked in bewilderment between the two women and the empty doorway.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

* * *

Excuses made, burrowed up at home and considering whether hibernation was a viable life choice, given the circumstances, Molly did her best to ignore the buzz of her phone from its haphazard spot on the coffee table. But at the third alert in a row, she reluctantly picked it up to thumb through the messages.

**Are you awake? –SH**

**Your light is on. –SH**

**I know what I would say. –SH**

Barely resisting the urge to fling her phone across the room, she wearily tapped her response.

**I can't do this now, Sherlock. You should just delete the whole thing &amp; I'll see you next time you're in the lab x**

At the almost hesitant knock at her door, she rose, blanket pooling round her ankles. Of course, they were operating on Sherlock's agenda now. Not even bothering to check who it was through the peephole, she called out through the locked door,

"Do we have to, Sherlock?"

"Molly, my key is missing."

"I know. I moved it."

"Well, will you open the door then?"

"Sure, why not? This is going to be painful enough without Mrs K hearing the whole thing as well…" The door unlocked, she turned and went back to her nest in the lounge without looking at him. Wrapped sleeve-covered hands around her mug of tea and stared down into it, avoiding eye contact. Avoiding him.

"The thing is, Molly –"

"Oh Sherlock. You don't have to. I'm –"

"Molly, please." The undertone of a plea amongst the firmly given command had her lapsing into silence once more, waiting for his words.

"This is the thing. I do. Like you too, I mean. But I'm not brave, not strong like you are. Frankly, I'm scared. Loving someone, anyone, enough to open yourself up for them to see all the flaws inside you? All the toxic thoughts and inconsiderate actions and –"

"You don't see –"

"Molly, let me finish. _You_ don't see. I'm no hero. I'm so far away from good, or kind, or anything at all agreeable that sometimes I don't even deserve to be in the same city as you. If you're a good bet, well, I'm Russian roulette. There's an almost certitude that I would blow this up in our faces and I'd lose the little I have now. So how would I ever be able to pull the trigger?"

Looking up at her, soft laughter was the last thing he ever expected to hear fall from her lips at his impassioned declaration. "I fail to see what is so amusing?"

"Mary is going to be insufferable."

"What?"

"She's right, you don't get it. You don't know…"

"Know what?"

"None of this is news to me, Sherlock. I've known you eight years, and in that time, I've watched you shred men to pieces with your words, let you whip corpses and steal specimens. Been on the receiving end of your deductions and helped you fake your own death. I've even tested your bloody pee! And through all of that, I've never stopped feeling this… whatever it is… for you. I'm not put off by the dark in you, not one bit. So I guess this means you get a choice now…"

"I do…?"

"Yup. Can you trust me to be brave enough for both of us?"

As he clutched out suddenly at her extended hand, narrowed the distance between their bodies, set his lips gently to hers in a whisper of a kiss, she got her answer at last.


End file.
